Charles Bukowski

a summation

more wasted days,
gored days,
evaporated days.
 
more squandered days,
days pissed away,
days slapped around,
mutilated.
 
the problem is
that the days add up
to a life,
my life.
 
sit here
73 years old
knowing I have been badly
fooled,
picking at my teeth
with a toothpick
which
breaks.
 
dying should come easy:
like a freight train you
don’t hear when
your back is
turned.
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